Controversial books are going to be controversial, I guess. And this one was controversial in a couple different ways.
The most public controversy had to do with the book debut. Author Joshoua Leifer was “cancelled,” to put it roughly, for wanting to sit down with a Zionist rabbi in conversation. A since-fired, presumably anti-Zionist employee of the Brooklyn bookstore cancelled the event without notice, saying something to the effect of not wanting to give Zionists a platform. Leifer, who himself is critical of Zionism, was expecting more pushback from “American Jewish establishment,” like synagogues.
Which leads to the other big controversy, that Leifer, a mid-to-younger millennial, counts himself as being raised by the “American Jewish Establishment,” and uses this book to rail a bit like a prophet about what has gone wrong. I’m not sure the “Establishment” has come under such scrutiny before, because the younger generations, the ones most critical of the status quo, have just come of age. (Let’s keep pretending I’m still young, self. :P)
I’m a geriatric, Reagan-baby (first term) millennial to Leifer’s “born the year before Rabin died” millennial. (Which is a ridiculous and self-indulgent way to say that we’re roughly 11 years apart in age.) And I spent a lot of this book getting distracted and trying to square Leifer’s Jewish upbringing with my own. It’s a moot point, really. We’re not going to have exactly the same experiences. Our backgrounds are far from polar opposites, but there are definitely some significant differences.
I don’t necessarily find fault with the crux of his arguments, but I think he’s missing nuance (sometimes. Other times, it’s definitely there.) In essence, American Jews, particularly his/my ancestors escaping violence and lack of freedom in the Pale of Settlement, largely eschewed their religious ties in order to fit in with America. The country's mores were oversimplified and seen as “exceptional” for the general lack of state-sponsored antisemitism. With generational time, of course, cultural ties to Yiddishkeit also lessened or became kitsch. The question arose by the mid-20th century: what is it to be an American Jew? First, we reeled from the Holocaust, in which our direct, or more often indirect family members were persecuted and slaughtered. Zionism—broadly the belief in a Jewish homeland in our ancestral territory, though strains of Zionism in practice have muddled the issue—swelled in popularity, particularly as European refugees headed eastward, and medinat Yisrael was created as a nation-state in 1948.
Israel and Zionism became, and arguably remain, the lynchpin of the “Establishment.” The “Establishment” here largely refers to the world of Jewish American nonprofits ostensibly created to serve American Jewish interests. But as the decades have drudged on, a deeper divide has grown between American Jews generally and the people purporting to serve them, particularly when it comes to treatment of Palestinians and the Israel government's right-wing march.
“The Establishment” sticks to a narrow, hyper-defensive view of Israeli policy, which alienates many people from affiliating with the oldest fully entrenched cultural American Jewish organizations. In that vein, many younger and not so young people have started to create new ones, from religious to cultural to political. Some of them, to me, feel like well-needed and thoughtful challenges to stagnation and groupthink. J-Street, T'ruah and Zioness are some of my favorite haunts as a liberal Zionist. My own rabbis, I’d argue, while not officially trying to move the needle, exist in this milieu of always challenging us to keep our minds open and grapple with uncomfortable truths, within Judaism, America and the world at large.
Other responses to disillusionment with Israel (and or its policies) amount to purity tests and more one-dimensional groupthink. My own tolerance for the smug, hypocritical and cannibalistic trappings of the far left is a fair bit lower than Leifer’s. Though part of finishing this book after October 7 is that he’s had to grapple with some of their antisemitism. (Meanwhile, being even more unhealthily glued to Twitter than usual for this past year, I’ve had go grapple with the moral failings of the Anti-Defamation League, which didn’t surprise Leifer at all. :/ It surprised me, because I guess I was stuck in the rosy narrative about their founding. Anywo.)
Leifer’s prognosis about American Judaism as we shuffle into what I’ll paraphrase as irrelevance is pretty bleak. Our relationship with Israel see-saws between blind support and what appears to be either disgust or apathy, and Israel cares even less about us. (See who Trump put forward as the latest ambassador to the country.) Israel, by definition, is the center of the Jewish world, because in a couple decades it’s where most of the Jewish people will live. Israeli Judaism also has a distinct sense of identity within nationalism and modern Hebrew culture, whereas, as Leifer argues, American Jews have Seth Rogan movies. :P (You know you're a younger millenial Jew when you can get away with not mentioning Mel Brooks or Larry David.) Our progressive and predominant religious observance is incredibly depleted, “liberal American Judaism” in politics is largely split from any sort of particularism, Orthodoxy is (small and) vibrant but dangerously parochial. Our strength, Leifer argues, is in our diversity of experiences. And maybe we need to mix and match to find a, I guess, healthy and authentic Judaism.
This might be the part of the review where I have to take a step back from the eagle-eye view. Griping that we’re too much of this or not enough of that feels a bit inhuman after awhile. I suppose, like many people (and maybe I’ve been conditioned by “Establishment” thinking to a degree) I worry about trends and about the group as a whole. But in a world of extreme politics and demagogues, maybe I like to take a peek under the curtain, too. Maybe there’s meaning in the small little communities like my synagogue, in Israel, in the United States, even in the rest of topically irrelevant diaspora. Is this not meaning, and, hopefully, if people stick with it, a sense of community?
Overall I think this book gives readers an incredible amount to grapple with, and all from the most modern and prescient perspective. I only quibble with Leifer when he makes occasional sweeping statements without considering more nuanced realities. He’s more left to the left than me, for example, and I don’t think he considers Jewish anti-Communist sentiment in this country stemming from the reality of Soviet show trials targeting Jews, refuseniks in the gulag, and Stalin’s purported plan for more ethnic cleansing. Most American Jews probably have personal as well as philosophical ties to Israel, though it’s a sliding scale (I’m on the lower end, even. :/ Not sure if he's intending to call me out on something.) I would also argue that some of Leifer’s accounting of Israeli history is oversimplified. But I also think, like a lot of Jews, Leifer is grappling with how to hold the complexities of two peoples in his heart at the same time.
Final quibble: I think that, ignoring Seth Rogen, American Jewish arts and literature actually means something, even beyond the hey day of Saul Bellow and Cynthia Ozick. If this is me trying to supersede my own, weird literary canon onto my national-religious culture, then so be it. :P I remain grateful to live on the Jewish Book Council website, hee.
To all of my Brooklyn anti-Zionist Jews to my “Establishment” middle-America synagogue Jews, I urge you to give this book a try. This is an important struggle to bring to our collective conversation.